


Elephant on my chest

by Magikz



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: M/M, Magical Smut, Slow Burn, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-02-26 11:33:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 15,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13234830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magikz/pseuds/Magikz
Summary: Simon meets a nice young man outside of school, and suddenly his relationship with his vampire roommate changes.





	1. It's a big sea with lots of fish

**Author's Note:**

> I pull several quotes from Rainbow Rowell directly just to show love (not to claim as my own). For example, the title is from the book. I hope you enjoy the little references I slip in.

Eighth year students have privileges to leave campus as long as they follow curfew so Penny and I take the bus to Watfordshire most weekends this year. No matter our plans, we end up in a bookstore, of which there are plenty in Watfordshire. They don’t fall under the purview of the Mage so they have books banned by the school library. Penny still swoons the minute we step into a store regardless of how many we go to.

Like a good best friend, I adopt an interest in books and on this September Saturday I’m perusing the section on magickal creatures, turning straight to the pages on vampires. She’s off reading about Chinese magickal history. It has no application to school or our lives, but she finds it fascinating.

That’s when Ricardo finds me. I hear his voice first, low and friendly. “Research or curiosity?”

I look up to see a boy (a young man?) (he has a light beard) in a green jumper, with brown eyes that shine a little and a soft grin under thick black hair.

“Huh?” I ask, feeling foolish for not understanding the question and suddenly wanting to impress this stranger.

“Your book,” he says, nodding at the volume in my hands. “That’s pretty serious reading.”

“Oh – oh, yeah, just…curiosity,” I say, my cheeks heating up a bit as the anthropological atlas of half-human creatures starts to feel heavier in my hands.

“So you’re a fan of anthropology?”

“No…well, um…Usually, I like fiction. Comics, um, graphic novels….which are the same, I guess…”

His scrunched eyebrows straighten into a smile. “Yeah? Me too! Are you reading anything right now?”

I tell him about the last three Neil Gaiman novels I picked up, and he’s read all of them. We argue about which was the best then he says I should check out some of the graphic novels online. When I give him a blank look, he opens his phone. He moves closer to me so our shoulders are touching. I can smell a minty soap on his neck and he’s warm. He’s about to scroll through the comic he’s looked up on his phone when he looks up directly into my eyes.

His voice drops a pitch, “Do you like it?”

I startle. “What?”

“The comic. The illustrations,” he says. Then he glances down at my mouth – I’m fairly certain – and my cheeks heat up again.

  
“Um…yeah…” I reply, even though I barely know what he’s asking and I haven’t looked at his phone yet. His eyes smile. I move closer to him.

\--------------------

A couple of weeks later, Penny and I are the lone students in the stands watching the football team practice. I’m studying the players, their moves, kicks and runs, but mostly I’m following Baz as he slams the ball into the net and sweats through his jersey weaving across the field. Can vampires sweat?

Penny is bored. “I’m going, Simon.”

“Hmmm? Just a little longer, Penny.”

“I don’t see why we need to be here.”

“To see if he’s….” I trail off and don’t finish the sentence. Usually, I would end that with ‘plotting’. For years, since Baz joined the football team, that’s the way I’ve persuaded and cajoled Penny into watching every practice, match and game – to make sure we knew what he was up to. To watch. To know. To see Baz from every angle. But even I know that something has changed this year. It’s still urgent and absolutely necessary to watch Baz but that urgency has a different texture. Today, I just gaze at Baz.

“You can go if you want,” I say to Penny.

“Thank Merlin! Count me out from now on. Don’t forget, you need to leave soon too, Simon.”

I turn to face Penny as she walks toward the stairs at the end of the benches. “Right,” I mumble to myself. I’m seeing Ricardo again tonight. He asked me out that day in the bookstore and we’ve seen each other three times since, but today is the first time he’s picking me up at the school grounds. My pulse picks up thinking about Ricardo; I can hear it against my temple. Ricardo is seductive. I’ve never thought that of anyone. It may have to do with him being five years older than me. Or that he talks in a low rumbly voice in my ear when he wants to compliment me. Or that he rubs his thumb over my knuckles when we hold hands so I’m always aware of his touch. Or that he runs his fingers through my hair when we kiss. Agatha never did those things. Then again, I never did those things for Agatha.

The football practice ends so I start to walk toward the gates where Ricardo will be picking me up.

Being with Ricardo is definitely hotter than being with Agatha. Is it because Ricardo is a man? I don’t like to think too much about this because I don’t have answers for all my questions. Does this mean I’m gay? What does that say about my old relationship with Agatha? Does it change who I am? What would the Mage say? Pennys says I’m worried about the wrong things. She met Ricardo the same day I did in the bookstore in Watfordshire. She thinks he’s hot and I should just enjoy myself, especially after moping around about Agatha for so long. I wasn’t moping, I told her.

I straighten my shirt. I only have three button-up shirts and I hope Ricardo doesn’t notice that I’m wearing the white one again – but it is the nicest shirt I have. I usually only wear it to special events. It’s only our fourth date and I’ve already run out of things to wear.

I end up walking alongside much of the football team as I start to cross the lawn. They’re all probably heading back to their dorms. Baz shoots me a glance as I straighten my shirt.

“Snow, I’m flattered,” he sneers. “You dressed up to watch us practice? You must not have much to do since Wellbelove dumped your sorry arse.”

I turn to return the glare but my eyes linger instead on the way Baz’s white and green jersey is drenched in sweat and clinging to his muscled chest. I wonder if dating Ricardo has made me look at all boys more…closely. But then, I realize I completely forgot the other football players there until they snicker at Baz’s comment. I grind my teeth and look away.

“I have a date,” I say, straightening my shoulders and avoiding looking at any of them.

Baz stops and faces me with a roll of his eyes. “You and Wellbelove got back together? Merlin, could you two be more cliché?”

His friends are already turning toward Mummers house. “No, it’s not her,” I say. I turn in the opposite direction and see Ricardo already waiting at the gate, leaning against his old blue sedan. He smiles when he sees me and I smile back. I check out with the security guard at the gates, and the guard reminds me to be back at curfew.

Ricardo embraces me when I reach him and gives me a long kiss. I like the way he smells -- not just the minty soap, but something else – a musky smell. I press my nose into his neck and take a deep breath before I let him step away and open the door for me. I settle into the passenger seat and look up to see Baz still standing where I started walking away from Mummers House. His face is frozen blank, and I feel a sudden and unexpected jab of guilt. But then Ricardo swings the car into the driveway and I turn my attention to what he’s saying.  
\--------------------

“I didn’t know you were gay,” Baz says quietly from his bed.

I shrug and then wonder if Baz can see that in the dark with his vampire senses (that he denies) if my shoulders are under a blanket.

“I haven’t really thought about it,” I say.

He gives a dry snort, “You’re an idiot, Snow.”

“Do you have a problem with it?” I reply, a little too loudly.

He doesn’t answer. I didn’t think he was awake when I got in from my date, but even so – I didn’t think he’d want to start a conversation. We’re not buddies who do pillow talk about our day. I wonder if Ricardo changes things with Baz. Maybe we can stop fighting.

“Well, I guess the path is clear for you and Agatha now,” I say.

Another snort. “Like I needed your permission. And, what? Are you saying she never meant anything to you?”

“No. She meant a lot. I …I think I loved her. Still do…in a way. But it never really…got far. I mean, it’s just different with Ricardo. He’s—“

“Ricardo?”

“Yeah. With Ricardo, it’s more … intense? When he touches me—“

“Shut up, Snow.”

“I’m just saying—“

“Shut the fuck up, Snow! I don’t want to fucking hear about your stupid fucking date.”

“Okay! Merlin, I was just…you’re the one who asked.”

How stupid of me to think I could somehow talk to Baz like a friend. I huff out a breath loud enough hopefully for Baz to know I think he’s a prat, and I turn to face the wall.

“Why’d you come to my practice?”

“What?” I startle and turn back.

“You came to my football practice right before your date.”

“So?”

“So – it’s a bit weird, don’t you think?”

“No. I’m always at your games,” I say and then immediately regret answering so quickly and honestly. How am I going to save the world of mages if I can’t even evade my arch nemesis in regular conversation?

“I know,” he says, turning finally to look at me with a smirk, “but most people – and I know you’re a bit slower than most people – would not be obsessing over another guy right before their date. Don’t you think, Snow?”

“I’m not obsessing! I’m keeping an eye on you.” I protest loudly, feeling my neck grow warm. Baz gives another annoying snort.

“And what do you think I’m going to do playing football that requires such close vigilance? Get really hot and sweaty?”

“Shut up!”

“You should bring Ricardo to my next game. I bet he’d love to watch too,” he says. I can barely see his face, but I can make out his eyebrows quirking up suggestively.

I turn my back to Baz dramatically hoping that’s enough to finally shut him up. Fucking prick. I fume for a while, trying to decide if he was being homophobic or just his general arsehole self. It gets late and I can see that Baz is now fast sleep. I start to wonder what it was that we were actually fighting about and finally fall asleep myself.


	2. Can't help myself

I’ve fought the Humdrum, dragons, trolls and monsters I still don’t know the names of, but none have prepared me for the problem I have now. There are six shirts of various colors and styles spread across my bed, and a sports coat hanging from my desk chair. I’m seeing Ricardo again tonight. I told Penny I was planning to wear my Watford uniform tonight because Ricardo is taking me to a nice restaurant tonight. Penny rolled her eyes and dragged me to Gareth’s room to borrow clothing.

Gareth was happy to help, but I wish he had helped less. He kept pulling out shirts, and Penny insisted I model everything he offered seeing as how it was Saturday afternoon and no one needed to get to class. Selecting a dark pair of jeans to wear was easy – they look great – but choosing a shirt started a three-way debate. Then Penny tracked down Agatha and insisted she join us in Gareth’s room. After crisply noting that she did not like breaking into the boy’s dorm, Agatha actually seemed happy to join in the discussion. It's nice to be friends with her again now that it's been a year since our breakup, and she does love talking about fashion. But it didn’t help. No one could agree on anything, and Gareth finally shoved me out of his room with the six shirts and his blazer and told me to just decide myself.

After showering, I pulled on the jeans but I am no closer to selecting a shirt. When Baz walks in, it flusters me further. The last person I want to make this choice in front of is Baz, who loves to make fun of my fashion sense – or lack of it.

He pauses at the door and stares at my bare chest for a second. I blush under his stare.

“Where’s your cross?”

“What?” That’s not what I was expecting to hear.

Baz shakes his head and dumps his books on his desk. He sits on his chair, facing away from me so I turn back to my bed.

“What the fuck are you doing anyway?” he asks, still sounding angry. I ignore him for a minute; why is he already annoyed with me? Then I throw up my hands.

“I just…I can’t figure it out. How do you do it?”

“Do what, Snow? Talk in complete sentences?”

I huff. “No…pick out clothes when there are so many. I’ve never had to choose.”

Baz stays silent.

“Penny says the lavender or blue jumpers because they go well with my eyes…(ahem) well, according to her anyway. Gareth says the black button-down shirt makes me look more mature…and Ricardo _is_ five years older than me so…”

Baz is looking through a book; I can hear him flipping pages roughly. What could he be reading so intensely? I keep babbling, though at this point I’m probably just talking to myself.

“Then Penny called Agatha into Gareth’s room and Agatha told me to go with his gray shirt, but it has a v-neck which is a little…weird.”

Agatha does know more about fashion, and she’s the only one who has ever been romantically interested in me. I pull on the gray shirt, which has nice blue and green undertones. I’m drawn to the color, but I don’t understand why Agatha picked a simple t-shirt. She’s the one who grabbed Gareth’s blazer and told me to just slip it over whatever I choose if I’m still worried about looking dressed up enough.

I turn to Baz. “What do you think?”

Baz looks up; his eyes run over my shoulders, arms, down even to my legs, and back to my torso. I start to feel the heat rise up my neck again.

“Well?” I ask more sharply than necessary.

Baz looks at the clothes lying on my bed, then returns to his book.

“Wear whatever you want.”

Merlin, after all that he has nothing helpful to say. It’s probably better that I not get his opinion anyway. He’d probably dress me up as a clown for his own amusement.

“How’d you meet him if he’s five years older?”

I keep fingering the gray shirt and looking in the mirror in front of my wardrobe.

“At a bookstore in Watfordshire. We started talking about books and…”

“And, what, you go out with any random person who asks you? Are you that desperate?”

“No," I say between gritted teeth. Baz's sour mood is ticking me off now. "He seemed … nice. And it’s not like that many people ask me out.”

“What do you know about him? Do you even know his full name?” Baz has forgotten the book in his hand and is glaring at me instead.

“Yes. Ricardo Peña,” I say, starting to feel defensive. “I know plenty about him. And I’m getting to know him. That’s how this works, Baz…besides I live with you and barely know anything beyond your name.”

He huffs and turns back to his book. I pick up the lavender jumper. Is this what people who own clothes go through every time they get dressed? I put down the jumper and go back to the mirror to look at the shirt I have on.

“It’s nice, but it’s just a t-shirt. I don’t get why Agatha liked it so much,” I mumble to my reflection.

“Because it’s tight.”

“What?” I look at his reflection in the corner of my mirror and Baz’s eyes are on my chest again, they’ve gone wide.

“It’s tight across your chest and arms and the v-neck shows off your…”

Baz trails off when he sees that I’m staring at him in the mirror. I swallow and watch as Baz’s eyes follow the movement in my throat.

“Did you shave?” he asks suddenly.

“Yeah…Ricardo says he really likes a smooth—“

“Shut up. … And you nicked yourself,” Baz is growling through his teeth like I nicked him with my razor and not my own chin (and maybe also my throat…and cheek). “Do you even know how to handle a razor? You’re such a fucking child. Can’t even dress yourself.”

It’s like he pulls me into a normal conversation just to insult me when my guard is down. I huff at him and start to tug on Gareth’s blazer.

“Why’d you take your cross off?” Baz asks. I forgot he had asked before.

“Oh, yeah,” my fingers go to where the cross usually hangs at the base of my throat. “Ricardo thought it was a bit silly…”

“Really? I’ve been saying you’re daft for years too! Guess I have more in common with Ricardo than I thought.”

“Shut up! That’s not what he said,” I shout. Now I'm pissed. I didn't want to be dragged into a fight with this jerk just before my date. Again, the prat lulls me into thinking we’re having a normal conversation. “You arsehole – you know it’s your fault he kept pushing me to take the thing off!”

“My fault?” Baz shouts back. “I’m the one reminding you that you don’t have it on!”

This is true but it confuses me, which also gets me more pissed off.

“You’re a fucking jerk! You fucking get inside my head and under my skin and…and now Ricardo thinks I talk about you too much!”

“What?!” Baz looks somewhat startled like what I’m saying is preposterous.

“Like you don’t fucking know! You’re like an elephant standing on my chest.” I shout. I growl and shove on my shoes. Baz has shut up finally, but I’m not ready to let this go. “Ricardo says I talk about you too much. Penny says I talk about you too much. Agatha thinks I talk about you too much. But they don’t fucking get it. They don’t get it. And you don’t fucking care!”

With that I stomp out of the room and slam the door closed, heading to the gates early. Maybe if I stand in the cold a while I can clear my mind of Baz before Ricardo arrives. I don’t know how Baz does it, but he’s got me thinking about all the things Ricardo brought up on our last date that I was trying not to think about. Like that 19 years is younger than I think (I hope the blazer changes his mind). Or when Ricardo said softly he understands that sexuality is a tough thing to understand at such a young age (I’m starting to wish I wore the black button-down that Gareth said made me look mature). And right after that for some reason he pointed out how much I refer to Baz during conversations and his voice became less soft and more impatient. The cross on my neck, he grumbled, is like a constant reminder of Baz. I said it was no big deal to just take it off. He rolled his eyes like I was missing some deeper concept, and he made me feel like a child. But then we went to his apartment and snogged for hours on his couch and he told me I was so good at that and so sweet and he wanted me and I melted against him…and I wish that’s all I was thinking about standing at the gates looking for Ricardo’s blue sedan.

\----------------

Baz is up when I get home. It’s not late – I made it home well before curfew – but I thought (hoped) he’d be in the Catacombs or faking sleep to avoid me like he usually does. Instead he looks right at me, and his steady eyes on mine re-ignite the rage in my belly that never really dies out for him.

“How’d it go,” he asks quietly. Again, he’s trying to make me think he can talk like a friend.

“None of your fucking business.”

He says nothing but raises an eyebrow in a perfectly graceful slow arc.

I’m ripping off Gareth’s clothes, and his ridiculously tight shirt gets stuck above my head, making me frustrated further. At this point, I know my magic is heating up the room. I finally yank it off to find Baz still coolly regarding me. The prick.

“You’re a fucking prick,” I yell, spit flying from my mouth. “Ricardo loved the shirt and when I told him you liked it too – he got mad!”

I stomp around flinging my shoes and socks off.

“And then the rest of the fucking night we’re talking about you! You!”

I pull the jeans off. I’ve never undressed in front of Baz, but I don’t care. I want to scream at him and make sure he hears all of it. Baz’s eyes go wide looking at my bare legs and chest, then he shifts under his blanket and looks at the door. The fucking door! While I’m screaming at him!

I stick my face into the path of his disinterested gaze. He will not ignore me tonight.

“And you know why I brought you up – even though I knew better? Because of you, you self-involved arsehole. Telling me I’m daft and don’t know how to dress or how to use a razor right before I head out for a date. You’re in my head when all I should have been thinking about is Ricardo, this amazing and sweet guy who somehow liked me despite how… _daft_ I am. People think I’m fucking crazy when it comes to you, but they don’t know what you’re like. You’re a snob and you’re cruel!”

I slam the bathroom door behind me as I go to brush my teeth. When I step out, Baz looks evenly at me.

He says, “So I take it you’re not seeing Ricardo anymore?”

At that, I lose it. I shout something incoherent and tear at my hair trying to think about what to do besides going off. I get an idea and yank open my desk drawer. I pull out the necklace with the cross.

“Ricardo did tell me something interesting tonight, though,” I say, my eyes gleaming. I stride toward Baz who presses up against the wall next to his bed in surprise at my sudden movement. I grab his hand roughly and press the cross into it. Baz yelps.

“Yeah, Ricardo said it’s pretty easy to test someone for vampirism.”

Baz shoves me away, and I land on the floor. He’s wildly looking at his palm and I’m close enough to see a cross-shaped burn there. I think we’re both surprised it worked.

“I guess there’s no need to follow you around anymore,” I say, smirking at the burn.

Then I look to his face and see fear blossoming there. My stomach drops to the floor. Baz grabs his coat and shoes and runs out.


	3. An uneasy truce

I sit on the floor where Baz shoved me, staring dumbly at the door for minutes after Baz flees.

_Baz is leaving._

The thought snaps me out of my daze and I leap out of our room, take the stairs two at a time down the tower, and burst out of the tower doors. I look toward the gates – no one but the dozing guard. I swing my head in every direction until finally I see Baz’s tall dark form cutting swiftly across the lawn to the Catacombs.

I run toward him, hoping he doesn’t hear my feet pounding the earth or my panting. Of course, he does and he turns his face just slightly but I must surprise him because he pauses in his steps for a few seconds to stare at me fully with a look of confusion. That’s long enough for me to slam right into him, knock him to the ground, and scramble to pin him down, which is never easy but he’s not flinging me off completely.

“Where are you going?!”

“Get off of me, Snow!”

“No! Where are you going? To the Catacombs!? Are you calling more vampires?!”

He stops struggling against me and sneers with pure hatred.

“No!”

Then he shoves me clear off of him with both palms slamming hard against my chest.

“I was going to visit my mother one last time!”

I see spit fly as he shouts; his words take the breath out of my lungs even more than his shove. I search his face and start to recognize again traces of pain and hurt and the fear I saw in our room just moments ago.

“I’m sorry,” I pant. “I just…I just…When you ran… I… Wait, what do you mean, ‘one last time’?”

Baz stands up and shakes out his coat.

“You know exactly what I mean.”

He starts again walking toward the Catacombs. I’m left scurrying after him and yelling at his back.

“Wait! You’re leaving Watford? Now? Tonight?”

“I’m sure you were looking forward to a grand spectacle, Snow, but I’m not waiting around for the Mage’s Men to come drag me out of the school in the middle of the day and…put a stake through my heart or whatever they do.”

“What? No, that’s…no, they won’t…No, Baz. Wait. Stop. Baz. Just wait!”

He turns so suddenly I run into him.

“What? What the fuck do you want now? Do you want the privilege of driving the stake through my heart yourself?”

“No!!”

Baz huffs and puts his hands on his hips. “Merlin, I don’t know what you want. And why aren’t you wearing anything?! It’s nearly November, Snow.”

I suddenly realize I never put on clothes or shoes. I'm just in my underpants but my magic is practically at a boil under my skin. I shrug, “I panicked.” My magic – and heat – is rolling off me.

“Right, well, looks like you have no stake or wand or…cross on you to use against me now. Looks like we’re done here.”

Baz turns away again, almost reaching the door of the Catacombs. I pull his arm and turn him around again.

“No, please. Just come home. Come back. Don’t go. Don’t…just…let’s talk about this.”

Baz throws up his arms. “What is there to talk about? You wake up the Mage and tell him to look at my palm, and he and his thugs throw me in a dungeon!”

“No! I won’t! I won’t say anything. I promise, please. Just don’t leave.”

“’Don’t leave’? Crowley, do you hear yourself? What have you been trying to do all these years besides get rid of me?”

“I wasn’t…I hadn’t thought of that. That you’d have to leave. Please, Baz.”

“Then why’d you _do_ all this?”

I shrug helplessly. “I wanted you to be nicer to me.”

Baz shakes his head and pulls at his hair. I see tears forming in his eyes and it’s too much. I go to comfort him, just a touch on his arm, and he waves me away impatiently.

“I’m sorry, Baz. Don’t go. Not like this.”

He stands staring at me like he’s going to need a long time to figure me out.

“I don’t understand how you can be ok with all this.”

I shrug and chew my lip. “Have you ever drank blood from a human?”

“No, I’m not… that. My father would kill me if I touched a person.”

“Don’t say that,” I reply immediately. I touch his cheek lightly and whisper, “Can I see your fangs?”

“No!” He pushes me back. “Crowley, Snow, you’re an idiot.”

He huffs and looks at the door to the Catacombs for a minute.

“Okay,” he says to the door.

“Okay what?”

“Okay, let’s go back to our room. I didn’t take my wand or any of my stuff. And I _am_ doing a spell when we get back – if you change your mind, I’ll know before you open your mouth.”

We walk back to the tower. My magic finally subsides and before we reach Mummers House. The cold air is making me shiver and my feet ache. Baz puts his coat on my shoulders, and I look at him startled.

“I’m going to have nightmares about your frozen nipples, Snow.”

I blush furiously.

Back in our room, he casts a spell -- **liar, liar pants on fire** \-- that will either let Baz know I was lying when I said I wouldn't rat him out or it would make the Mage think I was lying if I did tell. But we don't say anything else. Our fears seem to be back down to a manageable -- suppressible -- level. All my questions get stuck at the back of my throat, and Baz refuses to look at me even as he's casting the spell. We get in bed and turn away from each other. 

"I don't understand you sometimes, Snow," Baz says quietly in the dark a few minutes later. "I wouldn't have run after you."

Something unsettles in my stomach.


	4. Let me make it better

The next morning I wake up before Baz, as usual. I take a shower and plan to get downstairs in time to get a scone hot from the ovens. But after I dress and put on my shoes, I stop to look at Baz. He won’t wake up early on a Sunday, I know. For the first time in seven years, I look at him sleeping. His black hair is fanned behind his neck in thick shiny waves. His crooked nose is pressed softly into the pillow. His eyebrows gently curve over his eyes – no scowl or insinuation etched there now. His mouth. Crowley, his mouth. His full lips look plump and almost pink against the faint shadow of stubble on his chin, and I can almost make out an innocent smile at the corners of his mouth. I have a sudden urge to lick the corner of his mouth with the tip of my tongue.

At that, I bolt out the door. Scones. Right. Focus.

Downstairs, Penny asks why I’m so late. Crowley, how long was I looking at Baz sleep?

“Long night,” I mumble to her around a not-so-hot scone.

“Oooo. So Ricardo must’ve liked your new look. What’d you end up wearing anyway?”

“Not quite,” I groan, putting my head in my hands and ignoring her question. I had forgotten about the date. “Ricardo said he’s …that we shouldn’t see each other anymore.”

“What does that mean?”

I shrug, head still down.

“But why?”

“I don’t know,” I say and groan again. “He thinks I’m too young.”

“But he knew how old you were when you met at the bookstore! He saw you get on the shuttle back to school.”

“I know, I know,” I say. I don’t want to tell her what Ricardo said about Baz just yet. “Can we not talk about this now?”

“I’m sorry, Simon.”

Baz enters the dining hall right then and I half rise up from my chair. He looks like he’s moving in slow motion; he meets my eye and nods. I finally exhale.

“What happened between you two?” Penny asks loudly.

“Huh? Nothing. What? No, nothing,” I mumble. I’m no good keeping things from Penny.

“You two just managed to make eye contact without glaring or sneering... or throwing things.”

I shrug and force my eyes back to my scone. Typically, I would tell Penny every excruciating detail about my interactions with Baz until she’s begging me to stop. Now, I finally have proof that I’m not just an unhinged conspiracy theorist – and I don’t want to tell Penny that I have confirmed proof of Baz being a vampire. I worry briefly that I’m putting myself in danger. Penny is the only person – ever – to reliably have my back. She’s probably the reason I’m even alive today. But I don’t care. What happened last night with Baz feels … like it’s all mine. It was awful in many ways – most ways – to see him scared and hurt, but it was real. It was a part of Baz that no one else gets to see: not just the vampirism, but also that moment of fear. There’s something wrong with liking this, I realize faintly but I push that thought down. I recall, instead, the moment Baz and I walked together back to Mummers. I don’t think we’ve ever intentionally walked together anywhere. I search him out in the dining room again. He’s already saying goodbye to Dev and Niall.

“Simon!”

“Huh? Oh sorry, Penny.” She clearly has been talking about something.

“The history report? Want to get to the library?”

“Can I meet you later? I just have something to do this morning.”

She follows my gaze to Baz’s retreating figure.

“Merlin! How could I have thought anything changed between you two? Ok. Fine, sure. Go play chase. As long as I don’t have to be there.”

“Huh?” Sometime Penny talks in riddles. She and Baz are a lot alike in that way.

“I’ll meet you after lunch?”

“Ok. Yeah, sure. Bye, Pen.”

I almost fly out of the dining hall, hoping Baz hasn’t gone far. I see him walk toward the Genisca Hall. I slow down my pace. Then I speed up. Maybe I don’t have to slink behind him anymore. But what would I say? “Can I walk with you?” “Nice weather we’re having.” I slow down again.

He’s probably going to practice his violin. The Genisca Hall is where we take our arts classes. He steps through the heavy wooden front door, pulling on the ornate bronze handles. I walk around the gray stone façade. I know the room he’ll be in: ground floor in the southeastern corner. There’s a large window that is open most days when the weather is nice, like today. Sure enough, the glass panes have been pushed out. I sit under the window ledge and lean against the wall, sitting in the grass that's already turned brown for the fall. I hear some movements and finally the slow, smooth notes of a violin – then a sudden stop, with a barely-audible squeak. I wait, sitting under the window, pulling at the dry blades of grass. Nothing.

Finally, I turn and slowly look over the window ledge. Baz has caught me here before (and in the hallway on rainy or snowy days) and snarled at me for it. But when I peer into the room, Baz has his back to me. He’s holding the violin upright on his thigh and the bow between his thumb and forefinger, letting it drift up and down as he stares at a blank wall. Again, I wait, but besides the see-sawing bow, the room is eerily still. I can’t stand it anymore. I climb over the window. I wish I could say I did it like a ninja, but I grunted through the whole process (the window ledge is four feet high!) and crashed onto the floor when I finally swung over.

I pop up and run a hand through my hair.

“Hey,” I say smoothly.

“I’m leaving. Room’s all yours,” Baz says in a flat voice without even turning to look at me. He opens his violin case.

“Why aren’t you playing?”

“Because of you.”

“Me?” I don’t know whether to be proud or worried.

“Can’t quite hold the bow right.”

I nervously walk around so I’m not talking to his back. “Why not?”

His face darkens and he says in a low voice, “Just because you know…things…about me doesn’t mean we’re suddenly friends, Snow.”

A tight sharp pain crawls down my throat. Is that what I’m feeling? Why I followed him out here? Why I’m keeping his secret? Because I want to be friends? But…he put an end to that before I even knew I wanted it.

Baz slips the violin and bow into the case, and I see his palm. I am an idiot. Of course, that’s why he’s not playing. Merlin, I did not think this through last night. My stomach is in knots again. I catch his hand to look more closely at the burn. I trace the outline with my fingers. The skin is raw, thin. The burn is almost gray now. It looks ugly on Baz’s beautiful hand. I trace his long, thick fingers. He’s cool against my ever-sweaty hands and it feels like touching a cold, smooth piece of marble after coming in from a hot summer day. I run my fingers back to the burn and notice a corner of the wound has been scraped and there’s a tiny bit of pale pink tissue exposed. The bow. It must have hurt. _Oh, Baz!_ I bring his hand to my mouth and softly kiss the mark. I hear a sharp gasp and look up into Baz’s eyes.

  
I freeze a little, holding his hand in both of mine, watching the gray, blue and green in his eyes storm. He blinks and pulls away. He picks up his case and walks toward the door.

“Bye, Snow.”

Oh yeah. _Not_ friends. 


	5. What am I missing?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I never understood why some writers tag their work 'slow burn'. But now I do. Some stories just take time (and lots of words) to tell. Please keep reading!

I think again and again about his hand, the way it felt cool against my fingers and soft on my lips. Then I remember his eyes, the unmasked surprise in them, his face almost sweet.

“I’m sorry, Simon,” Penny sighs across from me.

“Hmmm?”

“I realize we never talked about you and Ricardo. How are you doing, Simon?”

We’ve been at the library for hours now. Penny is dashing through homework, pausing only to snap at me when she catches me dazing.

I frown at her question. I hadn’t given Ricardo much thought. I shrug and pick at the corner of my notebook.

“I was really upset last night. I kind of…took it out on Baz.” I look at her sheepishly, waiting to see if she’ll let me talk about Baz more. She gives me that look, the stop-talking-about-Baz look. So I go back to Ricardo.

“I don’t know, Penny. I just seem to get it all wrong. With Agatha. With Ricardo. I didn’t put them first – not like they wanted me to. I’m just a terrible boyfriend.”

“No, you’re not! You’re a good person and a good friend. Maybe they weren’t right for you.”

I give a wan smile as Penny pats my hand. It feels oddly nice when Penny does it, though usually I don’t like to be treated like a child.

“But…how did you like Ricardo? What was it like to date an older man?” Penny switches her sympathetic smile out for a suggestive grin. I give a genuine laugh.

“Hot. Like you said. He knows how to flirt and kiss and seduce—“

“Seduce!?”

We both laugh at that and spend the rest of the afternoon talking about boys and men and girls. By the time we get to dinner, I’m in good spirits and feeling good about dating and romance again. So when I sit down with my dinner plate and I catch Baz’s eye as he walks by our table, I give him a sly, knowing smile and lower my eyelids a bit to fix my gaze more deeply on his. I had no intention (ever) to flirt with Baz, but I'm in the mood today after the talk with Penny and kissing Baz's palm. His eyes stretch wide and I swear he’s holding his breath. I see again the open storm in his eyes. Niall knocks his shoulder and the moment passes. They both continue to their seats.

That. Was. Bloody. Terrific.

I dig into my food as Penny talks between bites, but my mind is really only thinking about the buzzing in my belly and chest and throat that seems to all come back to Baz. An itch. A craving. I want to catch Baz with that look again, that look of unmasked emotion – fear, pain, surprise. I’d prefer it be something good and not fear or pain, but honestly I’ll take it. I just want to see him, all of him. Everything. Anything. Baz unveiled.

After dinner, Penny drags me back to the library to make sure I finish the report I dawdled over in the afternoon. Then she begs me to join her in the eighth year common room to watch TV. By the time I return to Mummers Tower, Baz is under his blankets. I change into pajamas, brush my teeth and lay on my pillow, all while picturing Baz’s face today when I coyly smiled at him in the dining hall and earlier when I kissed his palm and yesterday when I …hurt him. Ok, I think about that less. But there were other moments I made Baz drop his guard. I start to recall other events, fleeting seconds, raw looks. And then I start plotting.

\-------------

The next day, I rush back to our room after classes end. I pull off my shirt, go into the bathroom, splash cold water on my face, and roll on more deodorant. I walk out again, kicking off my shoes. I sit on the bed. Ok. Yes. I’ll just wait. Nope. I get up, go back to the bathroom and look at my reflection critically. I comb my hair with my fingers, fluffing my curls into a weird frizz. To fix that, I sprinkle some water from the faucet into my hair, then I sprinkle more until my hair is soaked and sticking awkwardly across my forehead. I give up and rub my hair down with a towel, resolving to shave it off completely one day soon. In the room again, I look at my side, then Baz’s. Merlin, I _am_ a mess. I put socks and pajamas away, stack books and papers, and throw out candy wrappers. I sit on my chair, then the desk, then the bed again. Crowly, I’m a _mess_.

I’d rather not think too hard about what I’m doing – sitting around in our room, shirtless, waiting for Baz to come in and … I don’t know – ogle me. It’s nuts. It’s probably not dignified, if I allow myself to think about it. But I know what I saw. I saw Baz pause and stare openly when he found me shirtless dressing for my date with Ricardo and again he stopped in his tracks – even as he was trying to escape the campus – when he saw me running after him on the lawn in just my underpants. I look down at my nipples and think of that night (Crowley, was it just two nights ago?) and for a brief moment I think of twisting them. No! Merlin, what has gotten into me?! Baz should be here any minute – he usually takes his tea in our room instead of the dining hall. I lean back half on the pillow and half on the wall, thinking again of Baz’s palm against my lips. I just want him to look at me like that again. A little shirtlessness is worth it.

\----------------

I wake up to a door slamming shut. I must have fallen asleep. I rub my eyes trying to focus on the blurry shape of Baz.

“Gross, Snow. You’ve got drool across your face.”

I say something clever like, “Hmmmrphpht?” as I wipe the corner of my mouth. So much for disarming Baz with the sight of my bare chest. I seem to have curled into an awkward slump as I napped, half under my bed sheets. Maybe the novelty of me shirtless has worn off. Maybe that was all in my head. Whatever it is, Baz is not looking at me at all. He’s in his football uniform rummaging through his wardrobe. I notice a bright white sports bandage wrapped across his palm; I guess it covers up the burn.

“You had football practice today?” I ask, still trying to wake up.

“Of course. We have the big game on Saturday.”

That’s right. The French school of Magic – Le Loiseau – is playing Watford on our home field. Le Loiseau is our biggest rival. The game is always preceded by parties, and we get lots of visitors. Practice always gets more intense as the game nears.

Baz is barely acknowledging me as he gathers clothes to take into the bathroom. I realize I also missed tea for my moronic plan, and I have an awful crick in my neck. I stretch and run my hand through my still-damp hair.

And _there_.

Baz is staring so intensely at me stretching he drops the clean shirt he had in his hands. What is that? What is that look? I stare back, my hand still in my hair. I want him to come to me. I don’t know what will happen when he does, but I want it. Instead, he wordlessly goes into the bathroom. I look at his shirt still in a heap on the floor. I decide to wait for him. I put on a jumper. I sit on the bed. I stand up. I open a book. Baz seems to be taking the longest shower in human history. I’m not even sure what I’ll do or say when he gets out of the shower. And my stomach is rumbling and reminding me again that I missed afternoon tea. Hunger and confusion finally make me head down to the dining hall.

Penny and I talk about the parties we want to go to on Friday. I don't tell Penny, but I want to go to whichever party Baz is going to. There are some in dorms that students have with their friends. There’s one in Watfordshire, but we still have to meet curfew and it may not be fun to go into town if we have to leave just as the party is picking up. Agatha and Gareth walk by and tell us the best pre-game party is always the one in the gym.

When I return to the room, Baz is not there. I do some homework and fall asleep waiting again for Baz.

The next couple of days I watch every practice, mesmerized by Baz and the way he moves. If I sketched him playing, I think I would happily spend hours just drawing his powerful legs. I don't invite Penny to the practice anymore (or pester her, as she would say). Baz and I say fewer than ten words to each other – me out of a complete inability to find the words to say, and Baz out of…well, he’s probably just being Baz.

Then on Thursday, we’re both called to the Mage’s office in the middle of our last class for the day. I try to walk close to Baz as we cross the hallways.

“This better not have anything to do with ...the other night,” Baz says in a low threatening voice. He tugs on the sports bandage wrap that covers the burn on his palm.

“How could it?” I ask, surprised. Baz cast a strong spell on me to keep me from talking, and he is usually confident in his magic. “The spell you cast on me that night would activate, wouldn’t it?”

He purses his lips and trains his eyes on the space in front of us.

“I didn’t cast it.”

“What? Why not? Wait, are you trying to trap me?”

“No,” Baz huffs. He shoots a side-ways glance at me, shakes his head and looks to the ceiling. “I faked the spell. I just…trusted you, Snow.”

I’m dumbstruck. Then I have a crazy urge to leap and holler and maybe pick Baz up off the ground and twirl him.

“But I will kill you if you lied,” he says matter-of-factly as we finally reach the Mage’s office. 

We sit in the chairs in front of the Mage’s desk, me on the edge and Baz lounging low against the back like he’d just as soon doze off. The Mage is in his green tunic that always makes me cringe. His computer is casting a blue light in the badly lit office, and his desk is completely clear otherwise. The empty desk makes me think that the books, tools and magical artefacts crammed on the office shelves are never used and only for display.

He turns to us curtly.

“Hello, boys. I wanted to talk to you about this weekend. I take it you’ll be going to some of the festivities tomorrow?”

I nod and say, “Yes, sir.” Baz doesn’t respond at all.

“Right. I just want to encourage you both to be on your best behavior. I know things can be difficult between you two—“ at that I see Baz raise an eyebrow, “—but let’s put all that aside this weekend.”

We both sit quietly. If we’re meant to say something in reply, it’s not clear. The Mage clears his throat.

  
“Look, the party before this game for whatever reason always attracts lots of alumni, even though the school doesn’t do anything but put out some drinks and wafers in the gym. The end of year gala is a proper event, but alumni never bother to attend. So it’s this weekend that always brings in huge donations.

“You two are the most well-known students here. Simon, of course, is the Chosen One the prophecy foretold for the World of Mages. And Basilton…well, you’re captain of the football team.”

Baz snorts, “And Heir to the House of Pitch. And probably top of the graduating class.”

The Mage ignores him.

“Well, I’m sure you understand. This weekend is important. Glad we had this talk. I really must get back to … (ahem) … I’m sure you know your way out.”

The Mage turns back to his computer, and Baz and I file out.

“That was …odd,” I say in the hallway.

“Careful there, Snow, don’t want to be critical of your mentor,” Baz sneers. It doesn’t bother me at all. A small part of me allows that it might be a joke, a  _friendly_ joke. I'm grinning thinking again about our conversation when we were walking here -- that Baz _trusts_ me.

“Are you going to the party?”

“Maybe,” Baz says. We walk silently across the lawn to Mummers. He quietly asks, “Are you?”

“Yeah. Maybe. Yes,” I say.

Again we’re walking side-by-side and now we’re talking! I keep thinking about Baz saying he trusts me, and by the time we’re at the top of the tower, I’m almost bouncing on my toes.

Baz goes straight to his wardrobe and takes out his uniform. I follow him in and when he turns from his wardrobe, I’m standing in front of him, only inches away. I look up into his eyes and my cheeks light on fire, so I look back down to his throat, which is at my eye level and less incendiary.

“I’m sorry, Baz,” I feel him go very still so I reach my hand out to try to touch him in what I hope is a reassuring way. I can feel his cool skin through his shirt where I’m touching his stomach. I look at Baz’s hand, the one that’s tightly wrapped in a sports bandage.

“I wish I hadn’t hurt you. I wish I hadn’t scared you like that. I’m sorry.”

I start to rub his stomach a little and say more softly, “Thank you for trusting me.”

I finally look up and find that Baz is leaning toward me, eyes softly closed. His eyebrows are raised, not in his usual snarky way but instead in intense anticipation of …something. Then I see his mouth; his lips are softly parted. Crowley. My fingers have found their way between two of his buttons by now, still softly stroking his stomach. His mouth and his smell have hypnotized me, and I step even closer.

And then suddenly there are three loud knocks on the door.

Baz and I fly apart just as Penny let’s herself in.

“Simon! What did the Mage want? What happened? What’s going on with you two?”

“Nothing, Penny.”

“Hello, Bunce.”

Baz walks past me to the bathroom with his football uniform. It takes all my will power not to kick something hard. I know I was about to kiss Baz and it was starting to feel like all the buzzing heat building in me for days would finally be released…in a really wonderful way. But Penny…Penny is always looking out for me, I remind myself.

“He just told us to behave this weekend because donors are expected at the party tomorrow.”

“Oh.” Penny is clearly disappointed the Mage didn’t have more dramatic news.

Baz strides out of the bathroom. I can’t tear my eyes off him as he moves around, putting away his school clothes and books, slipping on shoes. He won’t return my look. Somewhere, Penny is talking, I vaguely realize.

“Are you going to the party, Baz?” Penny asks.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Baz says as he walks out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uuggh. It's torture for me too when these two *almost* kiss but then don't! Just do it! But there is purpose to the pain. Bear with me as these two sort out their hearts...


	6. It wasn't supposed to be like this

The next day, Baz and I wake around the same time. Even as I shuffle around the room getting ready for the day, I can’t stop looking at him, the way his hair falls in a lazy wave across his face. Baz, of course, is avoiding me until it becomes clear we’re both turning toward the bathroom at the same time.

He half nods – “Go ahead, Snow. I’ll wait.”

No sneer. No insinuation about my lack of self-control. I mumble a thanks, and once inside, I exhale sharply. After yesterday, all I can think about is touching him and kissing him, but I know I can’t just jump on him. I also have no idea how to talk about this. If I bring up how close we were to kissing yesterday, he'd probably just say it was all in my head. I shower quickly and dress.

Baz walks into the bathroom as I walk out and says quietly to me with a quick glance, “I’ll see you downstairs?”

I smile at him like he just offered to hand over his entire inheritance.

I don’t see him at breakfast, but I do see him in the three classes we have together during the day. At the start and end of each class, _he_ seeks _me_ out. He just nods and gives the briefest, faintest smile, which is enough to make my heart race every time. In Ms. Possilbef’s class, he even whispered to me the answer to a question she scrawled on the chalkboard, waiting for a student to volunteer an answer. Unfortunately, Baz whispering from behind me scrambled my brain entirely.

I was certain now that I would make a fool of myself. It was one thing to face Baz when he was snarling and sharp. This – whatever this is – is something else. It’s wonderful and scary.

At dinner later, Penny and I sit with a dozen other students, and everyone is talking about the party happening tonight. I start getting the entirely silly idea that everything I haven’t been able to say (or even understand) with Baz will suddenly work itself out in the most ... romantic way just because of the party.

So when Gareth says – “Simon, you should wear my jumper – that lavender one. Dress up a bit. It’s our last year!” – I agree enthusiastically, like a jumper will get me the night I want. (Just like a shirt got me the night I wanted with Ricardo, right?)

Penny chimes in to remind us she was the one who recommended that jumper in the first place. 

Meanwhile, I start to worry. When I want something this much – and this want is so big, I can’t even name it – it feels wise to expect disappointment.

\-------------------------------

I don’t see Baz at dinner or in our room. I know the football team has some special dinner with the rival team, and I’m going to see him soon, but I miss him in the quiet of our room.

The gym is not decorated with much besides the school flag and a tacky plug-in disco ball spinning slowly in the dimly lit room. It wouldn’t take a lot of effort for a school of magic to create a nicer atmosphere, but I guess the Mage wasn’t exaggerating when he said the school doesn’t do much for this party. Thankfully, there are sandwiches.

I quickly heat up in Gareth’s jumper and curse him under my breath when the first beads of sweat form on my forehead. Penny is practicing French with a Loiseau student – not a player but clearly a big football fan. I’m hovering around the buffet table when Baz arrives. Well, the entire Watford and Loiseau teams arrive but I only see Baz. There is a smattering of claps, whistles and random comments shouted toward them. I turn back to the table and eye the brownies.

“Of course, I would find you at the buffet table.”

The voice is low and laughing. I turn to find Baz. I smile sheepishly, “Well, the sandwiches _are_ great.”

Baz nods and smiles. A full, unabashed smile! It makes me smile even wider and I feel like I will burst soon.

“I see you borrowed something from Gareth again.”

I laugh nervously and finger the jumper, which is boxy on my shoulders and way too slim on my waist. “Yeah. How’s it look?”

Still smiling, Baz looks straight at my eyes and not the jumper. “Like I said, you can wear whatever you want.”

Oh! _Oh_.

Someone calls out to Baz. The football teams are taking photos. He excuses himself, and I take the moment to try to calm my (absolutely useless) mind, which I’ve completely lost.  _Did Baz just compliment me?_

Penny finds me, beer in hand, to complain about the French. I smile at her (because I don’t think I’ll ever stop smiling now) and she hugs me for understanding why she got into an argument with the French students.

“Simon!” A familiar voice calls me from behind. I turn to find Ricardo just inches away. He hugs me before I register he’s here. Has it been only a week since I saw him? It feels distant.

“How are you?”

“I’m good. I’m good. How are you?”

“I’m good. You’re looking great, Simon. Is this a new jumper?”

I blush as Ricardo lightly runs his hand over my shoulder, complimenting the color. Right then (of course) Baz returns. He looks at my flushed cheeks then at Ricardo’s hand on my shoulder. Baz takes a deep sip from his drink and his eyes harden. Dread dries my throat and rings in my ears.

“Bunce. Snow,” He nods at us. “And you are…?”

Ricardo grabs Baz’s hand and shakes it. “Hi. I’m Ricardo. Ricardo Peña. Are you a friend of Simon’s?”

“I don’t think that’s the word for it, Ricardo,” Baz sneers. “Are you an alumni?”

“Yeah. My family donates to the Watford Scholarship Fund every year when this game comes around. I usually don't come to this, but I thought I’d check out the party this year.”

At that, Ricardo looks meaningfully at me and again touches my arm. I try to move away subtly.

“Well, it’s a good thing Snow dressed up then,” Baz says, grinning at me. But it’s not the smile from before – this grin has the old sharp snarl back in it. “It looks like one of your friends took pity on you and lent you a decent jumper, Snow. Or maybe your friends didn’t want to be seen with you at this party in your old dingy white shirt for the hundredth time.”

My heart drops. Is this Baz returning to his real self? A tiny part of me hopes he’s acting jealous, but that’s rubbish too. It’s not like Baz and I have even talked about whatever is going on between us. I can certainly talk to anyone I want in any case. 

“Oh, stuff it, Baz,” Penny says. “It’s a party. Be nice.”

“So you must be Simon’s roommate,” Ricardo says drily. “Simon’s told me a lot about you.”

“Really?” Baz laughs. “I’m surprised Snow could string enough words together to tell you much of anything. Honestly, Snow is like a pathetic child – he can barely control his magic and he clearly can’t dress himself. Good luck with all that, Ricardo.”

“Fuck you,” I spit out.

“Ignore him, Simon,” Penny says. “You know what he’s like.”

At that, Baz saunters away and finds Dev and Niall. I stare at his profile as he snickers with them.

“Merlin, Simon. I didn’t know he was like that,” Ricardo says at my side. “It must be hell living with him.”

“Yeah, it’s a special kind of hell,” I say without looking at Ricardo. Baz glances at me as I say that, though, and I wonder how strong vampire hearing is – then he sneers and I clench my fists.

Penny steers the conversation to tomorrow’s game, or, more accurately, to her run-in with the French student. Ricardo listens politely. I’m still watching Baz and I see him slip out of the gym after 10 minutes.

Ricardo squeezes my arm. “Hey, Simon. Can we talk somewhere…more quiet?”

I turn to him finally and nod. Ricardo slips his hand into mine and pulls me outside.


	7. I want answers

I return to our room near midnight. The big game is tomorrow morning so I’m surprised to find Baz sitting up on his bed, reading a book, legs stretched under a quilt. I halt at the door and scowl until he looks up in a quiet and steady move, no malice in his face that I can trace. But I can fix that.

I slam the door shut and stomp to the bathroom to change. When I come out in my pajamas, Baz asks, “Did you enjoy the party?”

“Why do you always go for the lowest blow?” I growl, putting away my things.

“Ricardo seems…nice.”

“The joke’s on you, Baz. You think I’m childish and pathetic and… daft—“.

“I don’t think I called you daft. Not tonight anyway,” Baz says, looking into space as if he’s simply trying to remember what he had for dinner.

“Well, I know who I am. There’s nothing you can say that’s news to me. I’m shit at magic, shit at school, and I get everything wrong. But I'm decent and...loyal and... Fuck you, I’m not letting you get to me anymore,” I scream, wishing I could make the last line sound more believable.

Baz, the prat, is staring at a spot on his quilt. I sit down on my bed heavily and rub my hands over my face. A week ago Baz could’ve said the same things and … well, I would still be upset, but I would not have let him know.

“Is that…is that why you don’t want to…be friends,” I choke back an embarrassing sob. “You think I’m …too slow…too stupid for you?”

I’ve said too much and this time I’m grateful that Baz stays quiet. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding and feel my nerves settle as I exhale. There's nothing else I trust myself to say now. I turn off the lights and lay down to sleep.

Several minutes later, Baz says in the darkness, “That’s not what I think of you. I think you’re …I don’t think any of those things about you.”

I turn abruptly on my pillow to face him; I can make out Baz still sitting up in the purple darkness.

  
“Yeah right. This is your new game, Baz. You make me believe we’re…that we can be nice with each other. Then you…smack me in the face with a new insult when I least expect it.”

Again he falls silent. Good. I want it to be clear that I’m not a fool. But then he turns toward me and I can make out the movement. Even if I can’t see his eyes, I feel the sudden heat of his gaze.

“You’re brave and noble and good and powerful, Simon. You came running for me that day you found out I was a …vampire. I was terrified and ready to leave behind the most important things in my life but you…tackled me to the ground and told me to stay.”

After several silent minutes, Baz says, “I thought it would help. Tonight, Ricardo saw how living with me is hell. He finally understands why you….” He goes quiet again.

“Why I obsess about you?”

“Yeah. He asked you to get back together, didn’t he? It looked like it from where I was.”

I sit up trying to work through a new confusion of emotions and thoughts. Baz keeps talking when I don’t say anything for several more minutes.

“He seems like a good guy,” Baz says softly. “I looked him up. Ricardo Peña. Works as a nutritionist at the Magical Menagerie. Volunteers with a senior center. Not much on his family so they’re probably not terribly interesting or important…”

Finally, I get up and in one fluid unhurried motion I sit in front of Baz and take his face into my hands to pull him closer so I can search his eyes in the dark. 

Then I kiss him.


	8. Long night into day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all -- Thanks so much for reading and making encouraging comments! I just wanted to warn that the next chapter (after this one) gets a bit...kinky. Hahaha. I wasn't quite planning on it (but it is a joy to write) so the original rating for this fic didn't reflect that. I just updated it. Sorry for any confusion. I do hope you will enjoy the surprise as I much as I did. But you will have to wait as I finish drafting that chapter.

A small whimper escapes Baz’s mouth, and I press my mouth more insistently against his, pulling at his hair and sliding my tongue between his lips. Then suddenly, he pulls away and I get worried seeing his eyes large and his breath coming out in huffs.

“I’m sorry. I—“ I start to say.

“No.I just...It’s fine—“

Then Baz cuts himself off, grabbing me by the neck and knocking his nose into my face as he kisses me with a ferocity I didn’t think could fit into one kiss. I lunge at him, gathering his long, muscled body in my arms. I unfold my legs and push him down into the bed under me, our mouths never parting. I’m crushing him, rolling the length of my body over him, one leg between both of his and my other leg squeezing the outside of his thick thigh. I feel that thigh flex up against me. It’s a tiny move but enough to make me crazy and kiss Baz harder, pushing his mouth open and running my hand up his shirt to feel his wondrously cool skin on my palm. Baz arches into me and I pull back to see the beautiful look of lust and want on his face.

He slowly opens his eyes, his mouth still reaching for me but I slowly get up on my elbows and my knees so I’m hovering over him. In the fuzzy darkness I can make out that Baz’s eyes are darker still, a deep purple swirl searching my face. His eyes settle finally on my lips.

I whisper roughly, “Kiss me.”

Baz doesn’t hesitate. He raises his head up awkwardly and kisses me firmly, the soft licks of his tongue send electric shivers through me. His fingers tug on my hair until I’m crushing him into the mattress again. We kiss until my lips are sore. We kiss until we’re tired with sleep but still softly pressing our mouths together. Then Baz kisses small, light kisses on my eyes, cheeks, and hair until I fall asleep in his arms.

\-----------

The next morning, the sunlight is bright and falling in white slats on the empty space next to me. I stretch and smile thinking of last night. I can still feel Baz’s cool neck against my cheek, the ghost of his fingers pressed into my sides, and I run my hand through my hair smiling at how _his_ hair felt – softer, thicker.

I could lay here all day, remembering every moment with Baz, but I’m more eager to make new memories. I skip out of bed and get dressed. I feel like dancing down the stairs. I feel a bubble of mixed nervousness and joy in my belly as I make my way to the football pitch. All I can think is _Baz_. The game started half an hour ago, and I shuffle my way across the stands to Penny. There isn’t space, but I squeeze in and hug her impulsively after I'm seated.

We divide our attention between the field and chatting about nothing in particular. Well, Penny chats and I hum in response while keeping my eyes locked on Baz. He is ruthless and graceful all at once, his face is calculating and confident. The muscles in his thighs tighten and loosen as he runs and I hold my breath remembering last night. I suddenly picture myself licking his thigh very slowly up to…

“Simon! Hello?”

“Hmmm?”

Penny laughs at my side and jostles me.

“You are more distracted than usual today.”

“Yeah, well you know…the game…”

“Baz is not going to be fun tonight.”

“What?” I finally turn to her. “Why?”

“Because we’re losing! By a lot. I mean we could win if they manage a miracle, but it’s a long shot. Baz is going to be sour tonight – more than usual.”

I scrunch my eyebrows and finally look at the scoreboard. Huh? Well, what do you know – we are losing. I shrug.

“Baz is still playing beautifully.”

“What! Did I just hear you say the words Baz and beautiful in the same sentence?”

I smile but refuse to look away from Baz.

“Are you saying crazy things because you missed breakfast? Also a first, I’d like to note.”

I rub my stomach remembering that I’m hungry. “What do you think we’re having for lunch?”

Penny laughs again and shakes her head.  
\--------------------------

A couple of hours later, after I’ve eaten half a dozen sandwiches and the coaches from both teams give speeches on sportsmanship and the special relationship between the schools, I walk toward Baz where he’s standing and talking to the other players. Crowley, I miss him.

I shuffle close to him, close enough that I can smell his sweat and it makes my knees weak and my mouth twitch.

“Snow?”

“Baz. You played really well today. Really nice…really.” I swallow.

“I didn’t play as well as I could’ve, but thanks, Snow.”

With that, Baz walks off to talk to the French coach. I smile awkwardly at the players still standing there and slink away. My stomach is sinking and I try to ignore it.

“What was that?” Penny nudges my shoulder.

I shrug but Penny keeps looking at me meaningfully. Sometimes she’ll let a question hang in the air until I answer it. I take a deep breath.

“I don’t know. I’d like to be his friend. I wish we didn’t have to fight. I wish I could just talk to him…”

 _I wish I could kiss him again. I wish I could be holding his hand right now in the middle of this crowded room. I wish I could figure out why we_ aren’t _holding hands or kissing_ … I hope I don’t ruin this by wanting too much.

Penny pats my shoulder like she’s trying to comfort me, but instead she says, “Good for you. You seem to be getting through to him.”

“You think?!”

“Yeah. I mean he was a git last night at the party but he seemed civil just now and the last few days he’s been almost friendly. It’s not going to be easy, but I say keep it up. I hate to see you always so anxious.”

Penny excuses herself as I get lost in thought about Baz and all that has happened. Last night was exhilarating and hot and exciting…and beautiful and breathtaking and somehow it felt like kissing and holding Baz was the most natural thing I’ve ever done. How did we get there and what is missing now? I break out of my reverie and notice most everyone has left the dining hall, I see through the windows that the French visitors are boarding their buses, and Baz is gone.

When I get to our room, I hear the shower running and sit on the edge of my bed too tense to even pretend to do something as I wait.

Baz comes out dressed in a simple white t-shirt and a clean pair of football shorts. A waft of steam follows him out of the bathroom. His hair is damp and a glorious, uncombed mess. I’ve never seen it like that; he looks handsome.

“Good game.”

“We lost, Snow.”

I shrug. Baz sits on his bed mirroring me. I get up and sit next to him, reaching for his hand.

“Can we talk about—“

“I think you misunderstood last night.”


	9. I just wanna lick your thigh

“I think you misunderstood last night.”

My heart clenches at those words.

“I’m not… _that_ ,” Baz says, almost through clenched teeth.

“What is _that_?”

“I’m not …I’m not Ricardo. I’m not a ‘sweet, amazing guy’.”

I hear my own words out of Baz’s mouth and that worries me. He looks away and I see his jaw flex. “I am…I… I’m what you said I am. An arsehole. Cruel. A snob. A monster.”

“No, you’re not!” I cry out.

“You said I’m like an elephant standing on your chest.”

“I meant that as a …compliment?”

“I know you think…” his voice starts to take on an angry edge, “a kiss can turn our world upside down and change everything. But I’m never going to volunteer at a senior center like Ricardo. I’m …always going to be a vampire. I know you were thinking a kiss would turn me from a beast to a beauty or from a frog into a prince or something but…I still have fangs, Simon.”

“That’s not… I don’t think… I think…”

He hangs his head, looking at the floor, his fingers lock behind his neck. He sighs heavily in the silence.

“What? What _do_ you think? That I just need some affection? You’re thinking how I’m not _that_ bad. You think you’re going to fix me?”

“I wasn’t thinking any of those things,” I say quietly to the top of Baz’s head. My eyes roam down his arms to his football shorts to his knees where his elbows rest.

I say simply, “I was thinking about what it would be like to lick your thigh.”

Baz sits up swiftly, his chest rises and falls in shallow breaths as his eyes freeze on my own.

“You what?” His voice almost cracks.

“At the game today, watching you… Actually, I think I’ve thought about that before. I think I have a list of things I want…about you.”

He swallows hard.

I move closer to him and brush his hair to the side of his face; my fingers linger behind his ear. He relaxes a bit into my touch and I drop my head onto his neck and take a long and deep inhale. I can feel a bit of his stubble on his neck against the stubble on my own cheek. I smell his cedar and bergamot scent.

“I like your soap. And I really liked the way you smelled earlier, when you were sweaty.”

Baz shivers lightly. He won’t move to touch me. I can see from the corner of my eye that his hand is gripping his bed sheets. Nervous.

“Can I kiss your neck?” I say even as I nuzzle his neck.

“Mmmph.”

I think that’s a yes. I give a tiny kiss and he doesn’t protest. So I push my mouth into his skin until he’s lifting his head up to let me get closer.

I kiss up to his ear and whisper, “Can I kiss your mouth?”

I feel a slow but firm nod. I turn his head gently toward me with both my hands on his cheeks and kiss his mouth as tenderly as I can. I deepen the kiss until he kisses me back and I feel his shoulders relax.

“May I take off your shirt?” I try to keep the growl in my throat to a minimum as I ask the question.

Baz quickly pulls it off for me, holding my gaze. His chest is muscled and pale with beautiful traces of dark hair. I slowly straddle him and kiss down from his shoulders to his nipples. I push him to lay down on the bed and I lay on top of him. I keep kissing big soft kisses down to his naval. His skin in my mouth is making me want more.

“Baz, can I lick your thigh?” I whisper roughly.

He doesn’t answer or make any noise, and now I’m so nervous I keep my eyes on his abdomen. His hands come up to circle my head and bury into my hair. I tell myself it’s fine if he wants me to pull back.

But instead he groans out a strangled, “Yes.”

I go down to his knee and start there, making small circles with my tongue on the soft spot behind his knee. Then I firmly run my tongue straight up to his mid-thigh. I kiss and lick more slowly as I continue up until I’m pushing his shorts away with my nose. I smell his musky smell and it makes me kiss his thigh more deeply, almost taking bites. Baz starts to shift under me, whimpering.

“Can I take off your shorts?” I ask softly.

He’s breathing heavily but answers right away, “Yes!”

I take off the shorts and his underpants together and look at his face. His eyes are on me, anxious and in a haze of lust. The length of his torso in front of me is rippled with muscle. And his cock is straining to reach me.

“Can I take you in my mouth?”

“Mmnngg…Simon,” Baz arches his back and shuts his eyes.

I take that as a yes and start to kiss and lick and take his cock into my mouth slowly. I feel the smoothness of his skin and try to commit his tastes and smells to my memory. Then I feel him get impossibly harder in my mouth and it makes my own cock ache. I suck him until he comes with a shudder and a muffled cry. As his orgasm subsides, I keep hearing his muffled groans. After he finishes, I look up to see he is covering his mouth tightly with his hand. I sit up slowly, straddling his legs. His cock is wet and still half-hard. I follow the path of the beautiful faint flush spreading across his face but he won’t remove his hand from his mouth. He’s squeezing his eyes shut and has turned his face to the side.

“Baz?” I get worried.

I find his other hand and give it small kisses, rubbing his stomach with my free hand. His eyes open but won't meet mine; he keeps facing the wall. I lean down and move his hair out of his face. He’s slowly relaxing and I see the hand he has on his mouth is unclenching slightly, though it stays in place. I put my hand over his and when he doesn’t protest, I pull his hand away from his mouth and interlock our fingers.

Oh.

Baz’s fangs are out. They’re long and sharp over Baz’s full lips. Baz continues to avoid my eyes, but I hold both his hands and kiss them together. His bare body is still breathing heavily under me.

 _Baz_. This is all of him. He’s so beautiful. All his angles. His tangled dark hair, his long pearl-white fangs, his eyebrows that can speak whole sentences.

“You’re beautiful,” I whisper.

He doesn’t say anything and continues to look away. I kiss the inside of his wrist and kiss down to his elbow.

He says to the wall. “I can’t always control them.”


	10. Break down those walls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of sex. Lots. Don't say I didn't warn you.

“I can’t always control them,” he says to the wall, his words thick behind the fangs.

I keep kissing his arm. I continue kissing him down to his shoulders, across his collarbone. I lay behind him, kiss the back of his neck softly, and he gingerly puts his hand over my hands on his chest.

“I like them. I like all of it,” I say between kisses. “All of you… **I want you**.” Suddenly my words come out with magic. “ **I want all of you**.”

“Simon…mmphng…your magic…”

I can hear and feel my magic but those sentences aren’t part of any spell I know and I didn’t mean to use magic. It doesn’t have the combustible heat of my typical magic, but it is just as strong. The magic is leaving a shimmering where I kiss Baz, it’s warm but not hot, and it smells like fresh-cut strawberries. It's overwhelming, even for me.

“Does it hurt?” I stop for a second.

“”No. It’s just…intense.”

“Is it okay if I keep kissing you?”

He’s quiet for a long time. I stare at his back holding my breath.

“It’s always okay, Simon,” Baz says in a low voice.

My magic kicks up several notches. I kiss feather-light kisses down Baz’s back, leaving a trail of my magic. I press into him. He must feel how hard I am. He starts to arch into me and I tell him a jumble of everything tumbling through my heart and mind. The words keep coming laced with magic.

“ **I want you** (kiss) **All of you** (kiss) Baz (kiss) **I want to know you** (kiss) **I want to know every part of you** …”

The thrumming energy of my desire is spiraling through my body into my mouth, and Baz is trembling under my kisses. I kiss between his shoulder blades to his middle to his lower back and down further until my mouth is between his beautiful ass. Suddenly the desire fills my chest to bursting, and I press my mouth to Baz’s small dark hole.

“Simon!” Baz almost yells. “You don’t have to…”

“I want to (lick) **I want you** (lick) **Every part** (lick).”

Baz’s moans get louder and mingle with the magic in my words. All I can think is _Baz…I want him to feel how much I want him_.

As I think this, my mouth fills with the magic that has been cresting in me, and my tongue starts to stretch. I press it into Baz’s tight dark hole.

Baz cries out as he crushes my hand in his own where I’m holding his thigh. He tilts his hips to give me better access. It feels like he’s inviting me in, and I moan a little at the signal of his desire.

My tongue grows magickally and stretches, exploring the tight curves of Baz’s ass from the inside. Until the tip of my tongue reaches soft pudgy tissue. When I lick it, Baz shudders and his moan both gets louder and drops an octave. I brush the sensitive spot again and prod it and stretch my tongue further to press against. Baz is trembling and almost screaming my name like it’s a roar, like it’s a battle cry. His hips are rolling with the moves of my tongue. I lick deep inside him with broad strokes and I hear his fist hit the wall. Suddenly his body tightens and I feel it press along my stretched tongue. My own excitement rises as I realize he must be coming as he thrusts his hips hard, then rolls them, then softly sways them, then goes still, all while saying my name.

As he relaxes, my tongue gently shrinks and re-forms to its actual size and my magic ebbs. I kiss him softly on his upper thigh and push his hip to lay him on his back so I can see him. He’s even more beautiful, his body piqued but unguarded. His fangs are out but he’s not trying to cover them.

He’s looking at me with a warmth and happiness that makes my heart race as much as anything we’ve done today. Baz finds his wand and softly says, “ **Clean as a whistle** ,” which clears away the lovely mess we made. Then he closes his eyes and takes several slow, deep breaths – until his fangs finally retract. He smiles gently as I take his hand again and kiss his fingers, the palm, his wrist.

“Kiss me, Simon.”

I envelop him in my arms and kiss him deeply. He holds me even tighter, caressing me until I am again humming with heat. He pulls away.

“We need to get all these clothes off you, Simon.”

I move to tear my clothes off, but Baz motions to let him do it. He moves way more slowly than I would have. He slowly slides my shirt up, rubbing my bare skin as he goes. Even as he pulls off the shirt finally, he stops to run his hands along my bare arms. He rubs my back down to the waist of my jeans. His long fingers lightly trace my waist from back to the front. By this time I am going crazy. Baz slips open the top button then he pulls down my zipper notch-by-excruciating-notch so I can feel the cool pressure of his fingers rolling down my crotch. I look at his face and see that he’s holding his breath. Is this making Baz crazy too? It’s too much to consider and I involuntarily press my crotch up into his hand and groan his name in what I hope he understands is a plea for mercy.

He slides my jeans and underpants off, running his hands up and down my legs. He looks down at my body and the heat rises across my skin.

“Simon…you’re hot and throbbing,” he whispers as he wraps his beautiful long fingers around me. “Is this because of me?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes. You. Baz. You.”

Baz’s hand starts to stroke me. He’s laying beside me; he bends and places soft wet kisses on the tip of my cock. It is both incredibly erotic and sweet.

He looks up again. “Sit up, Simon.”

“What?”

“Sit up. All the way, against the wall.”

Baz grabs his wand and sits gently on top of my legs. I wrap my arms around him and kiss his mouth as he takes both of our cocks in his hand and starts rubbing them together. He points his wand at me and mutters, “ **Slippery when wet.** ” Instantly, my cock is slick. Baz lifts himself up and takes me slowly into his ass. My chest hollows out with the intense pressure and pleasure of it. Baz is straining, a vein shows at his temple and his neck tenses up. I worry this is hurting him.

“Baz, are you ok?” I ask through my whimpers of pleasure. “I can pull out.”

“Don’t you dare,” he growls back. “I want you to come inside me.”

With that he licks my lips apart and kisses me. Slowly he starts to move on top of me, graceful and ruthless as always. It doesn’t take me long to reach orgasm, Baz’s name ringing through my ears and head.


	11. What this means

We wake up in each other’s arms several hours later. I smell him first, then I feel the press of his cool skin and then I dare to open my eyes. I could already feel his eyes on me and sure enough his electric gaze is on my face. I flush and press my nose into his neck and smile.

“Just because we’re shagging doesn’t mean you can watch me sleep.”

Baz pulls away. “Just because we _shagged_...C’mon, Snow. It’s almost time for dinner.”

I place a chaste kiss on his mouth. We dress quietly, me trying to kiss and hug him every few seconds, doing a sloppy job of putting clothes on, and incapable of not smiling. Baz, though, keeps gently pushing me away and generally focusing much more calmly on pulling on his shirt and pants.

I try to hold his hand as we walk down the stairs, but when Baz pushes my hand away, my smile falters. I pull at my hair.

“Who are we going to sit with?”

“What do you mean?”

“At dinner. Should we sit with Penny? Do you think Dev and Niall will want to join us?”

I don’t really care where we sit, but it's the easiest thing to talk about right now. Baz keeps looking forward as he walks across the lawn in strides so wide I can barely keep up.

“Sit wherever you want, Snow.”

I ransack my hair even more.

“Look, Baz. I’m a terrible boyfriend. I already know this. Two people have confirmed it.”

“Understood. Don’t worry, I wasn’t planning our next holiday together.”

I get more frustrated, and Baz walks faster.

“I get that you don’t believe in some beauty and beast fairy tale bullshit.”

“Totally.”

“But! …But, Baz. Please, just hear me out.”

“I’ve heard everything you’ve said, Snow. Don’t worry. I wasn’t planning to tell anyone.”

“No! That's not...”

We enter the building. I pull him by the arm into an empty hallway before he can disappear into the bustling dining hall.

“I like all this," I say, gesturing dramatically. "I like you. I like everything we’ve been doing. I don’t want it to stop. I want more if…if you’re ok with it.”

Baz is finally facing me, standing still. I find his hand and hold it lightly.

“What do you mean by ‘more’?”

“I want to be your boyfriend. I …don’t think …it might be not-so-terrible …for us. I think.”

Baz raises an eyebrow. I falter for a second, then he steps forward. He carefully holds my face and I sigh with relief as he kisses me.

“I want that too.”

 

 


	12. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doing some edits

“Tell me everything.”

“Snow, it’s only been four days.”

“Call me Simon. And just tell me!”

Baz harrumphs.

“I took Mordelia to the ice rink again—“

“—the one we went to?”

“Yeah. Except all she did is complain that it wasn’t as much fun without you.”

“Really?!” I smile brightly.

“Well, yeah. It was a riot to see you fall on your arse every five minutes.”

“Shut up!”

I turn slightly to playfully shove Baz, who is already pressed up against the wall. He giggles and grabs my hand. I sit back contentedly in his arms, my head on his chest. We’re sitting up in his bed, Baz against the wall and me against Baz.

Baz kisses my knuckles. “I missed you too.”

I stayed with Baz and his family for Christmas. They were polite, if a bit stuffy. After a week there, I left because I didn’t want to over-stay my welcome. Baz surprised me by returning to Watford two days early.

“You should’ve just stayed with us the whole time.”

“I thought you’d want some time at home to yourself.”

“This has always felt more like home than Pitch Manor.”

I smile up at him. “You mean now that you don’t hate me?”

He smiles too. “I never hated you.”

“Sure.” I roll my eyes. 

Baz lifts my chin and kisses me tenderly. Then he looks steadily into my eyes. “I’ve been in love with you for a long time, Simon Snow. And I will be in love with you for a long, long time.”

I didn't know. I never guessed.

I know he can feel my heart racing. I try to catch my breath and when that doesn't happen, I hold Baz and, thankfully, he holds me firmly enough to calm me. 

"I love you, too," I say.


End file.
